


Blame it on Slade

by njw, salazarastark (niewanyin), Silver_Snow_77



Series: A Journey of Personal Discovery Through Social Isolation [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Batfamily Bonding, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Grinch Jason, I stg that was actually part of the prompt, M/M, Multiverse, Sex Pollen, Zombie Fairy Tim, don't worry Jason's thighs are safe, yeah there's two Dick Graysons in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/salazarastark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Snow_77/pseuds/Silver_Snow_77
Summary: Jason wakes up to the uncomfortable feeling of crumbs in his sheets, followed moments later by the recollection he’s staying at Dick’s pigsty of an apartment. Of fucking course there are crumbs in the sheets—he’s totally seen Dickhead eating junk food in bed before. He should’ve just insisted on taking the couch, but then again, there are some stains on that thing he’d really rather not get better acquainted with any time soon.Well, whatever. He only has to put up with this for a few more days. Sure, his favorite safe house got blown up, his second favorite fell into a goddamn sinkhole last week because Gotham is an actual hellmouth, and the others are all infested with giant mutant termites and other vermin after that one grad student at Gotham University invented a growth-ray gun a few days ago and went a little crazy with it. He just needs to find some new safe houses, scrounge some shitty free furniture that doesn’t look too much like a murder’s been committed on it recently, and he’ll be golden.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: A Journey of Personal Discovery Through Social Isolation [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1406953
Comments: 26
Kudos: 357





	Blame it on Slade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Airdanteine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airdanteine/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Air! We hope you enjoy this story, and that it gives you all the crack your heart desires.

Jason wakes up to the uncomfortable feeling of crumbs in his sheets, followed moments later by the recollection he’s staying at Dick’s pigsty of an apartment. Of fucking course there are crumbs in the sheets—he’s totally seen Dickhead eating junk food in bed before. He should’ve just insisted on taking the couch, but then again, there are some stains on that thing he’d really rather not get better acquainted with any time soon.

Well, whatever. He only has to put up with this for a few more days. Sure, his favorite safe house got blown up, his second favorite fell into a goddamn sinkhole last week because Gotham is an actual hellmouth, and the others are all infested with giant mutant termites and other vermin after that one grad student at Gotham University invented a growth-ray gun a few days ago and went a little crazy with it. He just needs to find some new safe houses, scrounge some shitty free furniture that doesn’t look _too_ much like a murder’s been committed on it recently, and he’ll be golden.

Also, right before he heard ticking and had to bail out the window of his favorite safe house moments before it exploded, he’d been trying a vibrating egg for the first time. Which… Well, that obviously didn’t go the way he’d planned. And in the chaos of making his way to the nearest family safe house—by the way, naked grappling and rooftop running? Jason does _not_ recommend it—the goddamn egg got stuck, because of fucking course it did. Worse yet, the damn thing isn't even working, so he never got a chance to enjoy it. He’s not even sure where the stupid remote is now, amidst all the chaotic mess that Dick calls an apartment.

Anyway, it all adds up to a good excuse to be grouchy. Heaving himself out of bed with a groan, Jason briefly considers throwing on a shirt before going out to see what Dick has in his cupboards. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, scratching his chest and padding over to the door in a borrowed pair of soft sleep pants and literally nothing else. _If Dickie’s offended, he’ll just have to fuckin’ deal._

The moment he throws open the door, two things happen simultaneously. First, he catches sight of all the glittery tinsel and holly and twinkling lights Dick’s strewn all over his apartment—as though he thinks decorating the mess makes it look any less hellacious—and he remembers it’s the goddamn holidays. He fucking hates the holidays, mostly because it’s a time of year that forces him to remember the few, scattered, infinitely precious moments from his first life when he was actually happy. It makes something twist in his chest like a knife to think about everything he lost. So, obviously he’d rather avoid the hell out of the holidays than have to deal with literally any of that.

Second, he trips over something soft and lumpy.

“What the fuck?” Jason blinks, frowning, then leans over to look down at the softly groaning heap at his feet. His brows fly up in shock when he realizes it’s bodies. “The _hell?_ Where did you guys come from?”

There’s no answer from the pile of—he makes a rapid count of limbs and heads— _nine_ mob enforcers, all twitching and moaning softly in a massive, tied-up pile right in front of the bedroom door. Well, one of them groans a little louder, but that probably doesn’t count.

A familiar voice answers from the shadows of the living room. “Oh, these are the guys who blew up your safe house!” It’s Dick.

Jason relaxes a bit at the sight of his brother, although there seems to be something—off, about the other man. He’s crouched on top of the bookshelves, for one thing. Dick usually only goes up there when he’s pouting about something or hiding because Alfred came over and wants him to clean. “Oh, yeah? Uh, thanks, Dickie, but what the fuck? Why didn’t you drop them off at the station or whatever? I mean, I can see they’re all unconscious right now, but having them in your safe house is a fuckin’ identity reveal waiting to happen the moment they wake up—”

“Oh,” Dick says, dropping down to the floor with his characteristic lithe grace. That isn’t what sends the fine hairs on the back of Jason’s neck tingling, or the icy fingers up his spine. No, that would be the fact that Dick’s wearing black tactical gear bristling with weaponry, clawed gloves, and has a hood hanging down with very fucking distinctive brass goggles and a beak. Oh, and his eyes are yellow. “They won’t wake up.” He smiles brightly, and it’s eerie as fuck to see Dick Grayson’s characteristic charming grin on a goddamn _Talon._

“Dick?” Jason whispers, carefully easing himself into position so he can bolt at a moment’s notice if the other man decides to attack. “What do you mean by that, Dickie?” Even if someone managed to get ahold of Dick and compromise him, chances are pretty good he’s still mostly himself. After all, he’s here in his apartment, and the thugs are currently alive. He’s obviously still Dick Grayson somewhere deep down—

“I’m teaching you to hunt for yourself,” Talon Dick says with another of those creepily happy smiles. He draws a wicked-looking knife and starts to extend it toward Jason. “See, I’ll show you—”

Yeah, nope. Jason throws himself backward through the open bedroom door, catches the windowsill, and flings himself out into the street. At least this time he has pants on.

Now, who’s the best bet to help him undo whatever the fuck the Court of Owls did to Dick? Without his safe houses, he doesn’t have much resources of his own to fall back on. Everything he does have—the bits he managed to salvage last night when he and Dick went to each of his safe houses to double check for clues—is hidden away in various caches throughout Dick’s apartment. Plus the usual secret stashes he keeps in all the Bats’ safe houses, but those aren’t really much more than loose cash, first aid stuff, and a couple of grenades. No, all the useful stuff is at Dick’s apartment. Which apparently has an Owl infestation right now, so that’s off limits.

Jogging down the street, he realizes he’s already got a destination in mind. Tim’s awesome, he’s far and away Jason’s favorite bat and easily one of his favorite people, period. He’ll definitely be able to help, both with finding a way to take their poor, brainwashed assassin brother down without hurting him, and then figuring out how the hell to un-brainwash him afterward.

Smiling with relief, Jason speeds up. Maybe Tim will have some idea how to help him out with his _other_ problem, too… That damn vibrator’s really starting to get uncomfortable. Tim has small hands, this could work.

* * *

“I can’t help you,” Tim says flatly, wondering in passing why Jason’s shifting back and forth like he can’t quite bring himself to stand still right now. He doesn’t even know what the other man needs his help with, just that he’s upset about something. Normally, Tim would already be leading him into the Nest to figure out solutions and contingencies, always happy to spend time with Jason and help him in any way he can. But fixing whatever’s going on with Jason is going to have to be something for Future Tim to worry about. Right now, he’s got his own problems to deal with. Maybe he’ll be able to get rid of Jason quickly enough that he won’t notice—

Jason frowns, eyeing him carefully. One brow slowly climbs toward his hairline. “Tim,” he says slowly, after a long moment, “why the hell are you _glowing?_ Is your—” He breaks off, starting forward as he stares at Tim’s hands in apparent horror. “Tim, are your goddamn _fingers_ broken?”

* * *

  
Jason, Trying and Failing to Make Sense of Fairy Zombie Tim. Art by [Azemex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azemex/pseuds/Azemex).

* * *

Well, shit. Mumbling, Tim shifts and avoids looking directly at the other man as he tries to get through this conversation without actually telling him anything. There’s still a chance he’ll leave without demanding a full explanation. A tiny, minuscule, practically nonexistent chance.

“What was that?” Jason narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

Yeah, he’s not leaving. Tim heaves a huge sigh. “Fine. It was Klarion, okay?” He gestures with his broken fingers and tries not to notice the way his unexpected visitor winces in sympathy, gaze fixed on the mangled appendages. “He was being a jerk as usual, and made a joke about zombies. I said something dumb about how zombies aren’t always all that bad, and the asshole _turned me into one!”_ Maybe Jason won’t realize he was talking about him. He can feel his ears turning red. Stupid fair skin that shows everything.

Jason looks absurdly touched. “Aw, Baby Bird! I didn’t know you cared!”

Damn it. This is so embarrassing. “Shut up. Anyway, because I’m a zombie I apparently don’t feel pain or take damage normally right now. So I messed up my hand grappling home last night, not that it hurts. It’s okay, though. According to Zatara, the spell should wear off within a few days and any injuries I get while I’m a zombie won’t last when I revert.”

“Okay,” Jason says, blinking. “But what’s with the glowing? Is that some weird chaos magic shit?”

Tim rolls his eyes. Might as well just spill everything now that he’s started. It’s not like Jason’s going to let this go. “That’s the worst part. Becoming a zombie temporarily seems to have activated my damn latent fairy heritage, because apparently it _technically_ counts as death of my human body.” He blinks. “I’m a fairy and a zombie, Jason.”

* * *

  
Fairy Zombie Tim. Art by [Azemex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azemex/pseuds/Azemex).

* * *

Jason stares at him in complete silence for a full minute. Awkwardly, Tim reaches up to scratch his neck, then stops himself when he remembers he’s a zombie and he might accidentally hurt himself without realizing it. Stupid Klarion and his stupid spells.

Eventually, Jason sputters back to life. “What the _fuck,_ Tim?”

Tim smirks. “Well, when a fairy loves a human very, very much…”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t wanna know the details. Just… One of your ancestors fucked an actual, honest to god fae?”

“Yep.” Tim snickers at the gobsmacked expression on the other man’s face, then relents. “Okay, so I’m like a sixteenth fairy because of that. I don’t have any actual magic or whatever—that doesn’t get activated for someone of mixed human and fae descent until after they die as a human. Then the magic manifests, in random and unpredictable ways. So far mine’s just been coming through as a faint glowing.”

“Huh. So which of your parents passed this down to you? And why didn’t _they_ turn magic when they died?”

“Oh, it was Mom. And she did—her magic just happened to manifest by turning her into an invisible harpy.”

“What the actual fuck, you cannot be serious.” Jason twitches, gaze darting around like he’s looking for an invisible harpy. He practically jumps out of his skin when Janet Drake’s clear, amused voice answers him.

“Of course he is, darling, Timothy never learned how to make jokes properly.” She chuckles fondly.

Ugh, why are parents so _embarrassing?_ “Mo-om,” Tim whines, squirming. “Just because Jason knows about you now doesn’t mean you can constantly follow him around harassing him, like you do me!”

She sniffs, sounding offended. “Well, if you call reminding you to eat your vegetables and get eight hours of sleep each night harassment—”

“I was thinking about the way you keep pestering me to reallocate Wayne Enterprise’s assets and invest more heavily in emerging markets, but yeah, I’m getting really tired of carrots and broccoli all the time.” Tim just wants to eat pizza and energy drinks once in a while, okay?

Jason starts laughing, interrupting Janet’s indignant response. “Holy shit.” He shakes his head, clearly struggling to absorb this revelation. “Wait, why didn’t I know about any of this? It seems like something the old man woulda had in your file.” He breaks off, looking concerned. Damn, something must have shown on Tim’s face.

“I… never told him. I never told anyone.” Tim bites his lip, shrugging at Jason’s worried look. “You know how B is about metas in Gotham. I thought…”

“I won’t let him throw you outta Gotham,” Jason growls, stepping closer and taking his hand—the unbroken one—and squeezing it comfortingly. “If he’s a tightass about it, I’ll go raise some hell and distract him until it blows over, okay? By the time I’m done, the last thing he’ll be worried about is you manifesting meta abilities. You’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Janet’s voice says, sounding annoyingly smug. “I _see._ Well. I’ve just remembered I need to fly to Greece for a while, check out a dig there. Take care of each other, won’t you, darlings?” There’s a flutter in the air, and then she’s mercifully gone.

Tim waves halfheartedly, then smiles, looking down at their joined hands. “Thanks, Jay.” He squeezes back, then blinks as he registers something he hadn’t noticed until now in his distraction. Blushing, he tries to tear his eyes away from all Jason’s exposed manly swole. He doesn’t do a very good job. “Why are you half naked?” Not that he’s complaining, or anything.

“Yeah, about that…” Jason gives him a lopsided grin. “My safe houses all got fucked, so I’ve been staying with Dickie, and last night the idiot got himself turned into a Talon? So we gotta subdue him without any of us ending up dead or seriously maimed, and then figure out how to de-brainwash him, ya interested?”

“Holy shit,” Tim murmurs, stunned. “I thought you were just going to say it was laundry day. Uh, yeah, I’m in.” Tilting his head, he begins to consider the tools he has at his disposal which might prove useful for capturing a brainwashed, Talonized Dick. His current state of magical zombification might actually prove useful, considering any injuries he takes right now don’t hurt and won’t last once he changes back. A plan begins to take shape in his mind, and he smiles. “No worries, Jay, we got this!”

* * *

The moment they enter Dick’s apartment through the window, he and Tim both heavily laden with all the gadgets and equipment they’d thought might help, Jason knows they’re fucked.

Because that’s _Slade Goddamn Wilson_ crouched in front of the desk, obviously trying to coax Dick out of whatever tiny space the acrobat has managed to wedge himself into. How did he even get in here? Also, his presence raises some troubling questions about how closely Wilson has been keeping an eye on Dick, if he was able to swoop in so fast after the guy was brainwashed.

“You’d have a great time as my apprentice. A chance to travel, kill people all over the world—what’s not to like?” Wilson edges closer to the desk, freezing when a knife flies out and wedges itself in the floor, perilously close to his groin. “Okay, so we need to negotiate a little more before you’re ready to agree—”

“Like _hell!”_ Jason roars, throwing himself into the room through the window. They’ve worked too hard coming up with plans to save Dickie to let him run off and be an assassin forever. Besides, Slade Wilson’s an asshole. He’d probably be mean to Dick, make him kill people all the time without any Disney movies or cereal or whatever the fuck else Dick is into these days. “C’mon, Tim!”

Behind him, he hears a crash, and half turns to see—

“Oh, come _on._ Really?” Tim’s glowing even brighter than ever, light shining from every part of his body. The zombie spell must’ve just worn off, considering it looks like his hands are healed now. Thank fuck. Every time Jason had seen the angles those poor fingers were bent at, he’d just wanted to kiss them better. Which would be highly inappropriate and probably very unwelcome behavior, so it’s good that’s back to normal. But… Tim’s glowing, his face, body, arms, legs and softly trembling butterfly wings all bathed in a radiant luminescence.

Wait, _wings?_

“Timmy?” Jason’s mouth drops open in astonishment as Tim goes careening past him, crashes into the far wall, and then flutters haplessly up to bounce off the ceiling a few times.

“It looks like my latent fairy magic finally finished manifesting. I don’t—” Tim grits his teeth, bracing for impact, then ricochets off a bookshelf. “I don’t quite seem to have control of these things yet. Sorry, Jay, you’re on your own.” He disappears into the hallway, a series of loud crashes marking his progress through the apartment.

“Well, fuck,” Jason says, suddenly remembering that he’s in a fight. Fortunately, it looks like Wilson was just as distracted by the spectacle of Tim trying to get the hang of his new wings. Goddamn secret fairy ancestry. Now Jason just wants to touch them, and he’s pretty sure that’s even less appropriate than wanting to kiss Tim’s broken zombie fingers. Where the fuck are all these weird new kinks coming from, anyway? “What the hell even _is_ my life?” he mutters grouchily.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Wilson replies, tossing him a grenade in an almost casual manner.

“Dude!” Jason catches it and throws it back. “Don’t be an asshole, Wilson, just get the fuck outta Gotham and we won’t go after you.” He watches as Wilson kicks the grenade out through the open window, where it explodes harmlessly in midair.

Behind Wilson, Talon Dick slides out from under the desk and rises up behind the man, getting him in a chokehold before the mercenary manages to flip him and escape the hold. “See?” Wilson says, watching the Talon almost reverently. “He’s always had potential, but just look at him _now!”_

“Damn it, Slade, you can’t have him!” Jason pulls a gun out from under the couch—thank fuck for all his weapon stashes in here—and takes aim.

“But—” The mercenary sounds ridiculous, and is that a _pout_ on his face? God _damn,_ this is shaping up to be a bizarre day.

“No,” Jason says, very firmly, as though addressing a small child.

“Tell that to my bazooka,” Wilson says with a smirk, whipping out—

“Is that _my rocket launcher?”_ Jason says, aggrieved. “You asshole, how fuckin’ dare you? You think you can insult me—shoot me with my own rocket launcher—in my own home?” He’s staying here right now, so this totally counts as his home. 

“Yes.” Wilson takes aim, and fires. Talon Dick crashes into him at the last moment, throwing his aim off so instead of taking Jason out, the shot obliterates the south wall of Dick’s apartment.

As a faintly sparkling mist rises from the smoking hole, Jason realizes with a growing sense of trepidation that the space now exposed behind Wilson’s spontaneous renovation project is Dick’s crime lab.

“Uh,” he says intelligently, watching the mist settle over Wilson, whose cheeks immediately flush as he stares at Jason, gaze sharpening with a different kind of interest. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

“Soon,” Wilson growls, striding toward him with a distinctly horny look in his eye. The growing bulge in his pants answers once and for all the question no one asked or ever wanted the answer to—Slade Wilson most emphatically does _not_ wear a cup. 

“Oh, Jesus. Guess it was too much to hope it was a sample of fuckin’ fear that got broken, huh?” Jason edges backward, wondering how well the mercenary’s super soldier serum will stand up to being shot in the dick at point blank range. Hypothetically. He takes aim and braces, ready for the other man to try to wrestle him to the ground. Sex pollen’s a bitch, but he’s dealt with it before. He’ll be fine.

So it’s a complete surprise when instead of full-body tackling him like literally anyone else affected by sex pollen would try, Wilson instead crashes into his legs and wraps himself around one of Jason’s thighs. “Were your thighs always this _biteable?”_ the man growls, following up by _actually_ biting Jason’s left thigh.

_Fuckin’ ow!_

“Jesus Christ, get him off get him off get him off!” Jason slams the butt of the gun into the mercenary’s head, but he doesn’t budge. “Damn it! I can be into this kinda shit, but not without dinner and a goddamn safe word!” He tries to shake the man loose, but he’s locked his jaw. “Fuck!”

Dick’s voice suddenly rises from beneath some of the debris lying around the ruined apartment. “Get off of my boyfriend!”

_What the fu—_

There’s a blur of movement, and suddenly the pressure on Jason’s legs is gone, as is the pain of the damn bite. Turning, he sees Wilson crashing to the ground behind him, Talon Dick twisting and trying to stab the other man’s torso as he rides him to the ground.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs. Those are some impressive moves.

“Wait, what? You guys are _dating?”_ Tim sounds distressed.

Jason whips his head around to the hall, where the other man is hovering, his delicately patterned, red and black wings fluttering behind him. He seems to have finally gotten the hang of them, but that’s not what has Jason’s attention right now. It’s the look of devastation on his handsome face that has his heart in his throat, wondering what the hell happened to put that awful look on Tim’s face. All he knows is he’s got to fix it, _now._ Wait, Tim just asked if he and Dickie are dating. Is that…?

“Uh, congrats I guess.” Tim still looks like someone shot his puppy in front of him. Then stepped on it. “Sorry if I’ve been bothering you. I didn’t realize…”

Hope rising, Jason hurries to reassure the other man. “No, we’re not dating, Timmy—” He breaks off in horror at Tim’s very audible sniffle as the winged man reaches up to rub at his eyes. “Oh my god, are you _crying?_ Oh fuck, I _swear_ we’re not dating—”

“Really?” Tim asks tremulously, looking at him with a wistful expression in his sparkling blue eyes.

Jason reaches for him, wanting to hold him and make this whole mess fucking _better,_ but at that moment Slade Goddamn Wilson decides to twist his way free and make another attempt at Jason’s thighs. He fends him off with his foot. “Damn it, Wilson, I ain’t got time for your bullshit right now—”

“Seriously,” Tim agrees, glaring at the interfering mercenary. As he glares, his wings buzz angrily and a copious amount of some kind of sparkling dust falls from them.

It lands squarely on Wilson, who yelps as he suddenly floats up into the air to bump gently against the ceiling. “What the hell?” He struggles to get at Jason again, but is foiled by the sudden inexplicable failure of gravity in his immediate vicinity.

“You can’t molest thighs when you’re floating next to the ceiling,” Tim whispers, smirking triumphantly. He tilts his head, fluttering his wings again experimentally. Another shower of sparkling dust falls from them. Jason carefully dodges it. “Guess I have pixie dust, too. That’ll be useful!”

Jason eyes the floating, cursing mercenary with some trepidation. “Well, we can’t just keep him there.”

“I got this!” Tim digs through the numerous pouches on his bandoliers, then comes up with an innocuous looking dart.

It looks way less innocuous a moment later, when a single puncture quite literally floors Slade Wilson. “That shit would take down an elephant.” Jason whistles, impressed.

Talon Dick immediately sets to tying the unconscious man up, then plops down to sit on his back. “So, we’re not dating?” He looks at Jason with an expression of confusion in his eerily yellow eyes. Besides the grayish skin and faintly visible black veins, those eyes are the main difference from how he usually looks.

_Damn, we gotta get Dick fixed, still. At least he seems to recognize us? Although if he thinks me and him are dating, his memory must be shot all to hell._

“Hey there, Dickie,” he says. “Uh. So why did you think you and me were dating? What do you remember?” Maybe if they ask him enough questions, they can figure out how deep the brainwashing went.

Tim nods, sinking slowly down to land on the floor. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful.” His wings disappear with a soft _pop_ and he looks startled for a moment, then shrugs. “Huh. I guess they dematerialize when I’m not using them. Sweet.”

Well, that’s definitely better than trying to fit them into one of his tailored suits and then convince the world Tim Drake-Wayne is now a hunchback. Which definitely isn’t something Jason had already been making plans for how to best pull off.

Talon Dick eyes him for a moment, then shrugs, apparently accepting disappearing fairy wings as pretty normal. Maybe it is, compared to all the other shit they’ve been dealing with. “Well, I was out on an assignment and the target pointed this weird gun at me? I ignored it, because, well, guns don’t usually keep me down for very long. But this one made a weird, glowing vortex in the air, and I guess I got sucked into it.” He tilts his head, looking puzzled.

That sounds like a portal. “Oh, thank fuck,” Jason breathes, meeting Tim’s eyes and seeing the realization there. This isn’t their Dick. He hasn’t been turned into a Talon, after all.

“Anyway,” Talon continues, looking blithely unaware of their exchange, “I was here when I woke up on the ground in the living room. From the photos on the walls, I realized there was another me who should be here. He looked… happy.” Talon looks down at his hands, a pensive look on his handsome but creepy face.

_Well, shit. That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard in awhile._

“It didn’t take me long to see there was only one bedroom, with both our stuff in it, and you were asleep in the bed.” Talon smirks. “I mean, of _course_ I assumed we were together. I went poking around Gotham, just to see what’s different here, and that’s when I found those guys talking about blowing up some of your safe houses. So I figured I’d try to teach them a lesson.” He perks up. “They definitely won’t be coming after you again!”

Fuck. Jason hopes that doesn’t mean he killed them. Glancing around surreptitiously, he wonders where the bodies are stashed. “That’s… great.” Hopefully Tim won’t think to ask about—

Tim’s brows are slowly rising. “Uh, what do you mean?”

Talon smiles brightly. “They can’t hurt him if they’re tied up in the closet!”

Oh, that’s okay then. Those thugs can last a few more hours in there. Jason promptly dismisses them from his mind. Another thought occurs. “...Shit.” If Talon Dick came here… “Our Dickie’s stuck in a hellscape universe being Talonized as we speak, isn’t he?”

Tim blinks. “Yeah, probably.” His gaze sharpens into a focused look of determination. “Let’s get to the Cave. I can modify B’s multiverse scanners to look for the universe that matches this guy’s signal, and—“

As they begin to move, the air is front of them shimmers, and then a portal opens in front of them. A second later, Nightwing struts through. “Hey guys, just brought down the Court of Owls in another universe. Didja miss me? Wait, what the heck happened to my apartment?!”

“Hey Dickie,” Jason sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “So, about that…”

“Wait, is that _Slade Wilson_ the other me is sitting on?” Nightwing gapes at Talon, who gives him a little wave.

Well, that works. “Slade blew up your apartment,” Jason says, shamelessly throwing the unconscious villain under the bus. _Blame it on Slade. Fuck yeah._ “He’s an asshole.”

Nightwing nods, apparently accepting that. He’s staring at Talon, frowning. “Okay, so I need a new apartment. It happens.” He snorts. “I’m just glad the Court had confiscated the portal gun Talon’s last target used to switch us, or you guys probably would’ve managed to destroy the whole _block_ before I made it back here. But… What are we going to do about other me?”

“Talon Dick,” Talon contributes helpfully. “Tall Dick for short.” He blinks at them earnestly.

“I think I’ll call you Tal for now,” Dick says, lips twitching. “Are you interested in staying here, or would you rather go back to your old universe?”

Tal considers carefully. “If I stay here, do I have to kill people?”

“No!” Tim and Dick both answer quickly, voices overlapping.

Jason smirks at the faint expression of disappointment on Talon Dick’s face. “Don’t worry, bud, if you wanna use those skills, we can always—“

“NO!” This time, Tim and Dick are so loud, Wilson twitches slightly in his sleep, muttering something about bazookas. Talon Dick tenses, eyeing him for a long moment before relaxing again.

“Would I get to live in a nice place like this?” He gestures around at the smoking ruins of Dick’s apartment. “With cereal and ice cream and a real bed to sleep in instead of a freezer?”

_Aw, fuck, this guy is breakin’ my heart._

Jason checks the others and yeah, Tim looks like he wants to buy Talon all the ice cream and cereal he wants for the rest of his life. Dick looks like he can’t quite decide between furious, protective, and sad. He just ends up looking constipated. Jason snickers.

“Yes,” Tim answers. “You can have all those things, and more.” He solemnly picks up a stray cereal box, torn by the explosion but still half full. “Here you go.” He hands it over to Talon.

“Yay!” Talon digs in. Cheeks full, he smiles at them. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Awesome!” Tim frowns, then bends down to pick something up off the floor. “What’s this?” He presses a button.

Ecstasy dances along every nerve in Jason’s body and he lets out a deep groan of pleasure. “Holy shit,” he whispers, barely managing not to fall to his knees as the vibrating egg he’d practically forgotten about starts humming inside him. “So _that’s_ why people like to use these things.”

“Uh…” Tim stares at him, slowly raises a questioning eyebrow, then looks back at the device in his hands. A calculating look passes over his face and he lifts his gaze to stare right at Jason as he presses another button.

The vibrating intensifies. Jason’s hips twitch involuntarily and he groans, deep and hungry. “Fuck, Baby Bird, you hold the key to my—heart.”

“I’m deeply uncomfortable with whatever is happening right now,” Dick says conversationally, peeking over Tim’s shoulder to see what’s in his hand. “Oh my god, is that a controller for the Robin’s Egg 3000, with extra vibrating action, textured for added stimulation?”

Tim blinks. “Why do you sound like an advertisement for it?”

“Dickie has a huge collection of sex toys. I found ‘em when I was looking for places to stash my weapons. This one looked like fun, so…” Jason shrugs, blushing. Maybe he can blame this on Slade, too? He considers that for a moment, then reluctantly dismisses the idea.

Talon tilts his head. “Is it common practice to use sex toys belonging to others?”

“Ew,” Tim complains, making a face. “No.”

Jason feels attacked. “It was unopened, in the box! I was gonna buy him another.” Maybe.

“Oh, that’s fine then,” Dick nods. Then frowns. “Wait, why is it _in_ you right now? Jay, you shouldn’t wear sex toys during fights. I know it adds to the excitement, but the chances of getting distracted at the wrong moment—”

Scowling, Jason starts to answer, then turns to Tim, exasperated. “Could you maybe turn it down for now, Timbers? I can’t _think_ when you’re makin’ me all hot and—”

Tim stares at him, eyes darkening and mouth dropping open. He starts to lean forward. “Jay,” he breathes, and _hell yes!_

“Hell _no!”_ Dick says, sounding horrified. He reaches out and presses the power button on the remote in Tim’s hand.

All the thrilling feelings go away, leaving Jason aching and wanting. Dickhead’s such an asshole.

“Hey, what’s this?” All of them turn to look at Talon, who is holding a fragment of festive tinsel and staring at it, a puzzled look in his yellow eyes.

“It’s for the holidays,” Dick explains, looking sadly at his deprived alternate self. “You know, dreidels and yule logs and Shou Sui and presents and Mishumaa Saba and Alfred-cookies.”

Talon stares at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Huh?”

“That’s it,” Dick says, clearly decided. “The first step in debrainwashing you is heading over the Manor for our traditional Christmahannukwanzaramachinesenewyearkuh celebrations.”

Fucking _what?_

* * *

As they walk into the Manor, Tim takes pity of Jason’s bafflement and explains. “I guess you guys mostly just used to celebrate Christmas back when you lived in Wayne Manor, right?”

Jason nods, still looking very confused. “Yeah. I mean, we just did traditions we’d grown up with, y’know? It was… nice.” He looks pensive and a little sad.

Tim bites his lip, watching him as Dick grabs Talon by the hand and starts pointing out the various decorations in the foyer, excitedly explaining their significance to his alternate self. Jason’s been loud and angry on the subject of the holidays ever since he came back from the dead… but right now, he doesn’t look like someone who hates the holidays.

Maybe this is something Tim can help with. “Well, that’s how it is now, too. Only, we’ve added traditions for everyone who joined the family since then. None of us are any kind of practicing denomination, but we’ve all got fun things our families used to do. So Hanukkah for me, and Cass never had anything growing up but she likes Chinese New Year celebrations, and then Duke brought some Kwanzaa traditions in—”

“Wow,” Jason says, looking around. “That’s… kinda awesome.” He swallows. “I dunno, I guess I just didn’t wanna come back here. Was afraid things wouldn’t live up to my memories of them, y’know?” He shakes his head, visibly shaking off the vulnerable mood. “Hey, where’d Talon go?”

“Yes?” Talon wanders back over from where he and Dick had been admiring the decorations.

Jason smirks. “One warning, man—if you don’t wanna be adopted, you should avoid Bruce. That asshole can’t keep his damn pen in his pants—” He falls silent, gaze traveling over Tim and Dick’s faces, then slowly closes his eyes. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Hello, Jason,” Bruce says, looming directly behind him.

Jason rolls his eyes, turning around. “Whatever, fuck it. Hey, Dad.” He and Bruce stand there for a long, awkward moment, just staring at each other, until Dick snorts.

“You guys are ridiculous.” He grabs Tim by one hand and Talon by the other, then pulls them forward and somehow uses them as extensions of his own arms to wrap them around both Jason and Bruce, pulling everyone into a massive group hug.

Tim ends up pressed chest to chest with Jason. “Hey there,” he whispers, smiling shyly. Those moments earlier, and the heat between them, rise up in his memory. Damn, he’d really like a few minutes alone with Jason to figure out whatever this thing is. Also to play with that vibrator some more. Which reminds him… “Jay, exactly how _long_ has that vibrating egg been inside you?”

Jason blushes and mumbles something. It sounds kind of like, “Fuckin’ Slade, this is all his fault somehow.”

“What?” Tim frowns, puzzled. Jason looks too embarrassed to answer, probably because Bruce and the Dicks are now staring at them with expressions ranging from horror to interest. Tim lifts up on his tiptoes so Jason can whisper in his ear. His eyes widen. “Oh my god, it’s been stuck in there for over twenty-four _hours?_ Jason, that isn’t _safe!”_

Jason cringes as everyone looks at him in concern. “It’s fine, Baby Bird. Maybe you can help me get it out…?”

Talon looks interested, Dick whimpers, and Bruce looks like he wants to sink into the floor. Tim shakes his head sternly. “We have to take you to Doctor Leslie at the clinic. Unless Alfred—”

 _“Fuck no!”_ Jason yelps, spinning on his heel and heading back toward the door. “Doc Leslie it is.”

He looks grumpy as he gingerly sits down in Tim’s car, and grumpier yet when Dick and Talon pile into the back seat. “B and Alfred are following in the other car with Damian,” Dick reports, happily passing around a thermos of what turns out to be Alfred’s delicious—and highly alcoholic—eggnog. “This one’s yours, Timmy.” He hands Tim a second thermos, which turns out to be filled with delicious life-bringing coffee.

“Mmm,” Tim sighs happily.

“Did we really hafta make this a goddamn family event?” Jason grumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“We just want to spend time with you, Jay!” Dick grins from the backseat.

“Yes, and I will have a chance to meet our sisters at the clinic,” Talon says, smiling. “Bruce said.”

“Wait, what?” Jason looks even more horrified than before. “Really? The fuck are they doin’ there?”

Tim glances at him reassuringly. “Steph volunteers at the clinic over the holidays, and Cass was going to join her tonight to help out.”

They all jump as the car speakers crackle to life and then Babs’ voice rings out. “And I’m on my way over there now. I’ve got to take pictures for Duke since he’s spending the holidays with his cousin. Can’t miss the blackmail moment, _or_ Alfred’s holiday cookies.”

At the thought of Alfred’s special, once a year, patented holiday cookies, Tim speeds up.

Jason’s still grumpy when Tim slips into the treatment room a while later, but he perks up a bit when he sees who it is. He brightens still more when he sees the tray of eggnog and cookies Tim’s carrying. “Feel better?” Tim gives him an encouraging little smile.

Snorting, Jason stretches and sits up, wincing slightly. “Yeah. That thing was starting to get pretty sore.”

“Can I kiss it better?” Tim blurts out, then turns completely red because _oh my god._ He panics and almost drops the tray, but the other man manages to save it, reaching out a muscular arm to catch the tray while his other hand settles on Tim’s waist to steady him.

Jason’s eyes are dark with desire as he pulls Tim close. “I wouldn’t be averse to that,” he murmurs. “Though we probably shouldn’t do it in Doc Leslie’s office. That’s just askin’ for Dickie to come bursting in on us, or fuckin’ _Bruce_ to pop in and then stand there staring in frozen horror for five minutes like the world’s most awkward weirdo.”

“Oh my god,” Tim whispers, appalled, and then he’s in Jason’s arms and they’re kissing. “Fine. But can we make out a while now?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jason growls, pulling him in for another kiss.

It’s a while before they get to the eggnog and cookies. But that’s okay.

And when Bruce inevitably opens the door and stands there staring in frozen horror for five minutes like the world’s most awkward weirdo, well, at least they still have their pants on.

“I fuckin’ love the holidays,” Jason mutters in his ear as they snicker, still wrapped in each other’s arms while Dick and the girls whoop and catcall from the doorway behind Bruce. Talon peeks interestedly from a nearby air vent until Damian’s hand reaches down and covers his eyes.

Tim snorts. “Yeah, me too.” He smiles as he tucks his head into Jason’s neck, letting it all wash over him. Family is great. But other things are pretty great, too. His smile widens. “Wanna head back to my place now?”

“Oh, _hell_ yeah.” Jason leans in close to murmur right in his ear, deep voice sending thrills through him that set his heart racing. “After all, you still gotta kiss it better.”

“Damn right.” Tonight’s going to be _amazing._

**Author's Note:**

> Between brainstorming, writing, and doing the beta for this story, this work contains contributions from ayzengima, azemex, nanimok, njw, rider_of_spades, salazarastark, themandylion, and silver_snow_77. This being a busy season for most of us and many of us not being fluent in crack, salazarastark provided the beta, njw did the majority of the writing, azemex and snow made the art, and everyone else provided excellent brainstorming and encouragement. 
> 
> Thanks, everyone, for all your ideas and effort in putting together this gift for Air! And Air, we hope you liked our take on your fun and unique prompt (fairy zombie Tim/something being stuck up grinch!Jason’s butt/Talon!Dick/Jaytim/Sladejay/Jaydick). It was… less challenging than we expected to cram all of those into one story. Anyway, happy birthday! :D
> 
> [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn)  
> *  
> Writer: njw  
> Beta: Salazarastark  
> Artist: Azemex


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